


Time Of Day

by tookumade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all their years of knowing each other, Hanamaki never forgot Matsukawa’s birthday. Not that it was hard to remember—March 1st was an easy date, but Matsukawa still appreciated it, especially given that Hanamaki was terrible with birthdays and had a tendency to forget everyone else’s. But he never forgot March 1st.</p><p>There was a first time for everything, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Of Day

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATSUKAWA!! \o/ Precious neglected cinnamon roll, needs more love.

Matsukawa drummed his fingers on the restaurant’s tabletop a little impatiently. Hanamaki was running more than twenty minutes late for dinner, and wasn’t answering calls or text messages. Matsukawa assumed it was because work had kept him back, but his shift should have ended already, and his workplace was usually quite good about these things.  
  
It’s true that ‘punctual’ wasn’t exactly a word Matsukawa would use to describe Hanamaki, but he had been getting much better at it over the years and was rarely more than ten minutes late to outings unless he had to be, until the past three weeks when he seemed to have lapsed into old habits again. Every time was the same reason: work, or university things relating to his master’s degree. Still, Matsukawa couldn’t really blame him, given how busy he was.  
  
Waiting around for him to arrive was pretty boring, though, so Matsukawa picked up a magazine that the restaurant provided for its patrons from the counter and flipped through it. It was a classy high-end men’s fashion magazine, which really wasn’t his kind of thing but he liked looking at the luxury watches they advertised, even if he couldn’t afford any of them. He had just flipped past a page advertising some Montblanc watches, when Hanamaki finally appeared and threw himself down into the seat opposite him.  
  
“Sorry,” he wheezed as Matsukawa pushed the magazine away. “My boss asked me to stay back an extra hour to cover someone’s shift.”  
  
“Again?”  
  
“Well, more money for me, so no complaints there.”  
  
“‘More money’?” Matsukawa echoed with a teasing grin. “So dinner’s on you tonight?”  
  
Hanamaki made a whining noise and pulled an exaggerated expression resembling that of sulking child. Matsukawa couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
“It’s not payday yet,” said Hanamaki. “Buy your own.”  
  
“ _Stingy_.”  
  
They ordered their food and as they waited for it to arrive, they talked about their day—Matsukawa sighed over the new colleague who was nice enough but didn’t know how to stop talking for more than three minutes; Hanamaki complained about the couple who kept bickering at work and just could not agree on anything.  
  
As he talked, Hanamaki absently ran his fingers over Matsukawa’s hands without any direction; tracing the lines on his palms, tracing his veins, running his thumbs over his wrists in gentle circles, until Matsukawa’s hands closed around his, and Hanamaki looked up to grin at him. Matsukawa felt his pulse quicken, like his smile was a shot of adrenaline, and there was a warm feeling in his chest and he thought, _yes, this is all I need._  
  
—  
  
Aside from being late more frequently, Hanamaki had also been out working a lot more than usual, even on weekends. He would constantly leave their shared apartment early and didn’t return home until late in the evening if he had just finished work or sometimes past midnight if he was working on university things, and was usually too tired to do much more than shuffle into the bathroom to take a shower, and then crash in his bed.  
  
“What have you been up to?” asked Matsukawa, confused, as Hanamaki dragged himself back to the apartment at half past nine at night and slumped onto the couch.  
  
“Morning shift,” said Hanamaki tiredly, “then a tutorial, a meeting with my project group for uni, then the afternoon and evening shift, almost non-stop.”  
  
“Why are you working so many hours?”  
  
“I need the money. This month’s rent and bills are due soon.”  
  
“But we split those.”  
  
“ _And_ because I’ve been staying out due to uni work, I’ve been eating out a lot more and spending money, so I need to work more to make up for it.” Hanamaki grinned a little at Matsukawa’s exasperated face. “I’m fine, Issei. Sorry I haven’t been around.”  
  
“Just… look after yourself, okay? Don’t overdo it.”  
  
“Me? Overdo things? I never overdo things.”  
  
“You’re so tired that you’re _squinting_ at me. Go take a shower, and then get some sleep. My eyes are watering just looking at you.”  
  
“Carry me.”  
  
Matsukawa scoffed, reached down, and grabbed him by the ankles and began trying to tug him off the couch.  
  
“ _Agghh_ , you asshole! I said ‘carry’, not ‘drag’!” Hanamaki yelped as he kicked out at Matsukawa, who swatted his feet away.  
  
“I’m not carrying you,” said Matsukawa, grinning. “Go on, move.”  
  
“ _Sooo_ not romantic,” said Hanamaki. He stood up with a groan, and then flung his arms around Matsukawa’s neck and put all his weight against him, nearly knocking him off-balance in surprise.  
  
“ _Dammit, Takahiro!_ ”  
  
“Carry meeeee–”  
  
“You’re heavy!”  
  
“I’m tireeed,” Hanamaki whined in an exaggeratedly childish voice. “Pleeease?”  
  
Half-laughing and half threatening to make him pay for it, Matsukawa began to shuffle his way towards the other side of the apartment with Hanamaki still hanging off him and his feet dragging along the floor. Hanamaki was laughing softly into his neck, and it was a nice sound and a nice feeling, so Matsukawa humoured him until they reached the bathroom.  
  
“Oops, wait, go back to my bedroom first; I forgot to grab my pyjamas.”  
  
“Oh my _god_ , go get them yourself!”  
  
“Noooo, come on, Issei,” said Hanamaki. “You’re so _strong_ and so _handsome_ and the _nicest person ever_ –” He made a squawking sound as Matsukawa’s hands grabbed at his stomach and began tickling him. Hanamaki let him go suddenly, and they collapsed into a laughing heap on the floor, wrestling and yelling like grade school children until they were out of breath, with Hanamaki protesting that he was too tired for this, they were disturbing their neighbours, and _you’re sooo not nice, Issei!_ the whole time, and Matsukawa resting his head against Hanamaki’s chest and wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.  
  
—  
  
It seemed to be getting worse over the next two weeks.  
  
Hanamaki was often leaving the apartment even earlier now—usually an hour and a half before Matsukawa himself left for work—and coming home even later. He only saw his other friends in the daytime, briefly, and hadn’t gone to any parties or outings for weeks, citing work duties every time, and on weekends, he either worked more shifts, or used the time to study. He and Matsukawa hadn’t eaten out together for a while either, and even shared meals at home were becoming a rarity. Though they usually alternated days to make dinner, Hanamaki hadn’t done his share for a while due to how busy he was—indeed, he wasn’t even home most of the time, so Matsukawa was cooking for one more and more frequently. There were a few nights when Hanamaki stayed over at a classmate’s place because he was too tired to make his way home, and because they had more work to do relating to their master’s degree the next morning anyway. Though he didn’t tell him so, Matsukawa hated those times; the apartment felt even emptier than usual.  
  
“You’re going to burn yourself out,” said Matsukawa quietly as he chopped up some vegetables in the kitchen for a rare home-cooked dinner that Hanamaki would be joining him for. Hanamaki was standing behind him with his face buried into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and his arms wrapped around Matsukawa’s waist. He seemed to be falling asleep where he stood.  
  
“I’m fine,” Hanamaki mumbled. “It’s worth it.”  
  
Matsukawa wasn’t sure about that; Hanamaki had dark circles under his eyes and often looked like he was about to fall off his feet.  
  
“If you’re short on money, I can cover for you, you know,” said Matsukawa. “You can cut back on some work hours and get some rest. I don’t mind lending you some, or paying the rent and bills by myself every now and then.”  
  
“I know, but I can’t let you do that,” said Hanamaki. “It’s not fair on you.”  
  
Hanamaki being out so often wasn’t fair on him, thought Matsukawa, and he knew how childish and selfish that sounded. But what could he do? He couldn’t force Hanamaki to stay at home, and he’d already voiced his concerns about overdoing things; it was up to Hanamaki to do what he needed to, and Matsukawa could only hope he would be all right.  
  
Hanamaki lifted his head a little and rested his chin on his shoulder, and asked sleepily, “Is that a new watch?”  
  
“Yeah, my old one’s clasp broke, so I bought this one earlier today. It’s a cheap thing, but it does the job.”  
  
“Given how much you like luxury watches, I thought you’d buy something fancier.”  
  
Matsukawa scoffed. “What, like a Tag Heuer?”  
  
“Yeah, that sexy black one you really like.”  
  
“Ha! Only if I want to live off cup noodles for a whole year.”  
  
“Well, they do have some nice flavours out…”  
  
“I am not living off cup noodles.”  
  
“Hey, don’t diss cup noodles, Issei; they saved my bank account when I moved out of home.”  
  
“Yeah, but that was years ago, before we started living together and sharing the rent.” Matsukawa turned his head and gave him a funny look. “You’ve been eating a lot of cup noodles lately, huh?”  
  
“Only when I’m at uni and too busy to go out and buy anything.”  
  
“For god's  _sake_ , Takahiro, you should’ve said something! I’ll make extra so you can take the leftovers tomorrow.”  
  
“Mm, thank you.”  
  
“What would you do without me?”  
  
“Eat cup noodles.”  
  
Matsukawa gave a snort of laughter and elbowed him lightly in the stomach, and Hanamaki jumped away.  
  
“Go take a shower, dumbass,” said Matsukawa. “Dinner won’t be done for a while.”  
  
“Okaaay.” Hanamaki leaned in and kissed his jaw, and left the kitchen.  
  
But after several minutes into making their meals, Matsukawa stopped and realised that he hadn’t heard the water run in the bathroom. He frowned and looked down their small hallway; the bathroom door was open and the lights were off. He poked his head into Hanamaki’s room, and his shoulders slumped in exasperation as he found Hanamaki curled up in bed, on top of his blanket, fast asleep.  
  
“What the hell,” Matsukawa murmured as he stared down at him with his hands on his hips. This would mean that they wouldn’t be eating dinner together yet again, but while he was disappointed, he just didn’t have the heart to wake him up.  
  
Matsukawa couldn’t exactly yank the blanket from underneath him, so he grabbed the spare from the closet and covered him with it, then carefully slid his hand under Hanamaki’s head and pushed his pillow beneath him. Hanamaki woke a little and he opened his eyes slightly.  
  
“’sei?” he murmured sleepily.  
  
“Yeah, it’s just me,” Matsukawa whispered, running a hand gently over his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”  
  
Hanamaki mumbled incoherently and closed his eyes again and pulled the blanket a little tighter around him. Matsukawa sighed, left the room and shut the door behind him quietly, and returned to the kitchen to continue making dinner, now for one—again—with a lot of leftovers.  
  
It was frustrating. Matsukawa had always been good at reading Hanamaki and knowing when he was lying (which was rare, because they had managed to build an honest relationship over the years), and this time, he wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the whole truth, either. Matsukawa didn’t want to pry, because he knew Hanamaki would tell him when the time called for it but this had been going on for weeks now, and he still didn’t know why, and he missed Hanamaki being around, and was getting increasingly worried about him.  
  
‘It’s worth it’, Hanamaki had told him.  
  
For his sake, it’d better be.  
  
—  
  
There was still no improvement in the weeks following, and while Matsukawa wasn’t surprised, it didn’t make things any easier. His patience was beginning to wane; it was getting harder to get a hold of Hanamaki, and he was still staying back late at uni or covering a lot of shifts, sometimes at the last minute, which was far more inconvenient and bothersome than Matsukawa would have liked, especially when it happened a few times as he was preparing to make dinner for them both in the rare times that Hanamaki was meant to come home early.  
  
But if Hanamaki finally arrived home after work or uni and Matsukawa was still awake, it was so easy to forgive him for the inconvenience—he couldn’t ever be upset at Hanamaki for long; they just didn’t work that way. A hug, a kiss, an apology, and then things were good. Hanamaki never made insincere apologies, and Matsukawa knew this couldn’t have been fun for him, either.  
  
Still…  
  
Matsukawa almost lost his temper at him one day. Hanamaki had told him in the morning that he’d be home early, so Matsukawa couldn’t help but feel a sinking disappointment in his stomach when he saw that Hanamaki was ringing his phone late in the afternoon.  
  
“Hey, I’m sorry, but I can’t come home for dinner,” said Hanamaki. “I’m–”  
  
“–covering someone else’s shift,” Matsukawa finished for him, fighting back the annoyance in his voice.  
  
“Um… yeah.”  
  
“I’ll leave some food for you.”  
  
“Nah, I’m finishing up late, so I’ll just buy dinner here.”  
  
“Okay. See you tonight.” Matsukawa hung up before Hanamaki could say anything, which was unusual for him because he was usually much more patient than this, and it just added to his frustrations. He _knew_ Hanamaki was busy, he _understood_ wanting to save up as much money as he could by working more hours, and he _was_ patient with him for the most part, but now, he was angry at himself for being annoyed at Hanamaki, who was just doing his best.  
  
But… it was harder than he thought, being in a relationship with someone who was around so little. What had happened? Was he saving up for something, and if so, what was it, to make him work so much and come home so late at night almost every day? Maybe Matsukawa had done something wrong? Hanamaki would tell him if something was up, but it had been weeks, and he hadn’t said anything…  
  
Matsukawa ran his fingers through his hair. He was getting nowhere, thinking like this.  
  
He made himself a dinner of oyako-don (with extra so Hanamaki could take the leftovers for lunch or dinner the next day) along with a cup of hot tea, and ate and drank whilst watching a movie on his laptop. He then washed the dishes, took a shower, and retreated to his room to sit comfortably on his bed and lean against the wall to read a book that one of his colleagues had lent him, but he really wasn’t paying attention to what was happening in the chapters he was skimming past; more than anything, he was listening for Hanamaki coming home.  
  
Nine o’clock approached, and was gone… half-past nine… ten o’clock… it was nearly eleven when Matsukawa heard the front door unlock. He put his book down on his bedside table, and listened as Hanamaki shuffled down the small hallway and dumped his bag heavily in his bedroom. There was pause, then footsteps again, and then a quiet knock on Matsukawa’s door.  
  
“Issei?” Hanamaki called softly.  
  
Matsukawa didn’t reply. After a while, Hanamaki’s footsteps carried him away from the door and into the bathroom, and then there was the sound of the shower being turned on. Matsukawa exhaled, not realising he had been holding his breath. He wasn’t so annoyed anymore but he wasn’t pacified, either, and that was a frustrating place to be.  
  
He sat there for a few minutes, just listening to the sound of the water running, and moving only to shift into more comfortable positions. The shower finally stopped with a squeak of the tap and he heard Hanamaki clatter around the bathroom for a bit before the door opened, and Matsukawa thought, _ah, fuck_.  
  
He was out the door in two strides and found Hanamaki about to re-enter his room, but jumping in surprise when he heard him throw open his door, and turning around to see Matsukawa staring back at him.  
  
“Issei–”  
  
Matsukawa closed the gap in a step and shoved him against the wall, catching the startled look on Hanamaki’s face right before he kissed him hard. Hanamaki wasn’t surprised for long though; he dropped his work clothes he had been holding onto the floor and his hands were quickly in Matsukawa’s hair and he was kissing him back almost hungrily, and both were soon slightly short of breath. Hanamaki pressed his head back against the wall and hissed as he felt Matsukawa’s cool hands slip under his shirt.  
  
Then, Matsukawa was dragging him to his bedroom and shutting the door behind them, and pushing Hanamaki down onto the bed and pulling his shirt over his head.  
  
“Goddammit Issei,” said Hanamaki, fumbling with Matsukawa’s own shirt, “slow down, I can’t keep up–”  
  
Matsukawa grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed. “You’ve been rushing so much lately, but now you’re telling _me_ to slow down?” he breathed.  
  
“That’s not the same thing!”  
  
“Do you want me to slow down, then?”  
  
They stared at each other; Matsukawa as something of a challenge, and Hanamaki trying to read him.  
  
Hanamaki yanked his wrists free and pulled Matsukawa’s shirt off roughly.  
  
“Don’t slow down,” he murmured, trailing his fingers down his back as Matsukawa arched a little at his touch. “Don’t stop.”  
  
And then Matsukawa was pressing hard kisses and soft bites against his jaw and down his neck and his collarbone, and grinding against him until Hanamaki was gasping his name over and over again, and _god_ , he missed this, he missed what Hanamaki felt like, what he tasted like, what he sounded like. He missed the increasingly impatient build up as they tore off the rest of their clothes, he missed the way Hanamaki’s fingers threaded through his hair and gripped it hard, he missed his streams of soft swearing and yeses and moans.  
  
Did Hanamaki miss this too?  
  
Had things changed? Was he getting bored of the way things were, was that why he was out so often? Did he expect more? Did he–  
  
“ _Ow, fuck!_ ” Hanamaki snapped as Matsukawa, distracted, bit his neck a little too hard and drew back hastily in surprise. “Issei, you dumbass, what’s gotten into you?”  
  
“Sorry, sorry, my bad.” Matsukawa cringed and rubbed his thumb against the reddening bite mark gingerly. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah, _I_ am, but what about _you?_ ” said Hanamaki, looking heavily exasperated. “What’s going on?”  
  
Matsukawa was pretty sure that Hanamaki wasn’t the right person to be asking that.  
  
“I’m just… out of practice,” he replied. “Sorry, I’ll be more careful.”  
  
But Hanamaki didn’t look convinced. He pushed himself up into a sitting position.  
  
“‘Out of practice’?” he repeated.  
  
Matsukawa smiled very slightly. “It _has_ been a while.”  
  
“I guess,” said Hanamaki slowly, eyes searching his face and trying to read him again.  
  
“Come on, I’ll take it easier now. I’m sorry.” Matsukawa leaned in to kiss him again, but Hanamaki pressed his fingers to his lips and stopped him.  
  
“I know I haven’t been home very much lately, but I’m not ditching you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said quietly. “I’ve really just been busy.”  
  
It was quite startling how much those words made Matsukawa feel more at ease, after he had been questioning what had changed in their relationship only a minute ago.  
  
“I know,” he said. He hadn’t—not with certainty, anyway—but he knew now. “I just…” It shouldn’t have been so hard to tell him. “Miss you.”  
  
Hanamaki’s expression softened. “I know it’s been a bit hectic,” he said, “but spring break is coming up soon and I’ll have a bit more free time then, so… I just need you to be patient for a little longer, okay?”  
  
“Aren’t I always?”  
  
Hanamaki smiled slightly. He pressed his hands to his face and kissed him this time, and it felt oddly bittersweet; Hanamaki’s slow kisses were always nice, but Matsukawa couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. The urge to beg him to slow down and get some rest and come home for dinner more than once a week was threatening to build in Matsukawa’s throat, but he had to trust him, had to trust that Hanamaki knew what he was doing, to give him space to breathe if that was what he wanted, even if that meant Matsukawa coming home to an empty apartment every day. He could do that. He could continue to be patient.  
  
“Have lunch with me tomorrow,” said Hanamaki after he pulled away from their kiss. “I have almost a full day, but I have a bit of time after my project group meeting finishes, so I’ll take the train over and meet you during your break and we can get ramen from that place you like near the market. Does that sound okay?”  
  
Honestly, anything sounded fine; they could be eating cup noodles together on a broken bench somewhere, and that still sounded perfect.  
  
“Yeah,” said Matsukawa softly. “Okay. Sorry.”  
  
“If you’re sorry, then you’ll make up for this.” Hanamaki pointed to the bite mark he had received.  
  
Matsukawa smiled. “How do you want me to make up for it?”  
  
With his arm snaking around his neck, Hanamaki leaned back and pulled Matsukawa down over him.  
  
“You know how,” he whispered.  
  
—  
  
It was now late February, and Hanamaki’s spring break had finally arrived, which meant he didn’t have to stay back at the university until past midnight anymore, but for some reason, he also still took on a ridiculous amount of work hours at his job and was now _regularly_ leaving early in the morning and _regularly_ coming home late in the evening. Sometimes when his morning shift had ended, he would have a few hours of break during the day, but he used those hours to take naps at home and Matsukawa encouraged this because he still looked ridiculously tired.  
  
He wanted to ask what was going on and why Hanamaki was still doing this, but he had already told himself that he wouldn’t, that he would be patient for Hanamaki’s sake. But it was hard keeping it in.  
  
Especially on a night like this, when they had had a fight.  
  
The monthly bills and rent had come flooding in earlier that week and Matsukawa, home from work hours before Hanamaki was as usual, gathered all the invoices and paid the total so he could get it over and done with. It left a small dent in his bank account, but it wasn’t anything he was concerned about; it wasn’t like he expected to spend his money on anything big in the near future.  
  
He and Hanamaki had always split everything as evenly as possible, but Hanamaki had been working so hard and saving up for god-knows-what, that Matsukawa figured that letting him off the hook just this once would be okay; he really didn’t mind taking on the bills every now and then to save him some trouble, even if Hanamaki disliked the idea—after all, Matsukawa was currently the one with the more stable job, whereas Hanamaki had to depend on casual work, along with juggling uni.  
  
Later than evening, Hanamaki had come home at nearly nine, which was actually early by his recent standards. Matsukawa made him a glass of iced tea as he sank into a chair at their small dining table with a groan and downed the drink gratefully. Matsukawa sat opposite him, chided him again for overworking himself, and sighed as Hanamaki just smiled tiredly and shook his head and told him for the hundredth time that he was fine.  
  
“By the way,” said Hanamaki, “has the rent come in yet?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, I paid all that already.”  
  
The smile vanished from Hanamaki’s face. “What?’  
  
“I paid the rent already. Think of it as my treat this time, you’ve been working so hard–”  
  
“That’s not how we agreed to do things, Issei!” Hanamaki snapped, startling Matsukawa. “What about the electricity bills and–”  
  
“I paid for those too.”  
  
“What the _fuck?_ ”  
  
Matsukawa was defensive now. “What are you so mad about? You’ve been working so much, so think of this as… I don’t know, helping you out with whatever you’re saving up for.”  
  
“I don’t need you helping me!” said Hanamaki. Matsukawa couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him look so angry. “I’m working more hours so I _can_ pay my half of the bills, so how much was the–”  
  
“Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Issei, I don’t need you feeling sorry for me!”  
  
“ _Fuck,_ I’m not feeling _sorry_ for you! I’m just lending you a hand because it’s something nice I want to do–”  
  
“I’ve got enough saved up that I can manage as well–”  
  
“I don’t get why this is a big deal–”  
  
“It’s a big fucking deal, because it’s not fair on you!”  
  
“ _And maybe I don’t care about that!_ ” Matsukawa shouted. They were both yelling now, and it wasn’t anything like their yelling when they joked around or wrestled playfully; this was actual angry yelling over a bad disagreement. “Maybe I don’t give a shit about however much money you’ve got saved up, maybe I just want you to stop burning yourself out and come home early for once!”  
  
The silence that followed felt like a crushing weight. They stared at each other furiously, hearts feeling like they were about to rip themselves from their chests, breaths a little short… just angry and confused and hurting, and not communicating as clearly as they needed to.  
  
Then, Hanamaki pushed his chair back so abruptly that it fell over, and he stormed away. Matsukawa heard him throw open some drawers, some heavy footsteps, the slamming of the bathroom door, and then the sound of the shower running. Matsukawa leaned his head against the wall beside the dining table and closed his eyes, taking deep slow breaths in an attempt to calm down.  
  
He had told himself he would be patient; Hanamaki had asked that of him, and he had agreed, and it should’ve been relatively easy. It shouldn’t have escalated into this.  
  
It wasn’t as though he couldn’t see where Hanamaki was coming from, but he didn’t think it was something worth getting so mad over, either; the furious look on Hanamaki’s face made Matsukawa want to shrink away, and his stomach churned unpleasantly. This couldn’t be healthy for either of them. Whatever the hell Hanamaki was up to, it needed to have ended yesterday.  
  
Matsukawa heard Hanamaki leave the bathroom and shut the door of his own bedroom, softer than how he slammed it earlier but still a heavy sound that felt cold. He sighed, rightened the fallen chair, tipped Hanamaki’s unfinished tea down the sink and rinsed out the glass, then went to take a shower himself.  
  
Later, Matsukawa was in his room and flipping absently through a magazine he had bought because it had a special feature on luxury watches. He had wanted this to be a distraction, but it wasn’t enough. His eyes trailed over beautiful but expensive Tag Heuers and Zeniths and Bremonts, but he didn’t enjoy them as much as he would have liked because he was too preoccupied thinking about the fight. Part of him was still angry, and part of him wanted to go into Hanamaki’s room to talk like more civilised people, but there was a chance that he was already asleep, and Matsukawa didn’t want to disturb him when he came home so tired every day.  
  
He dropped his magazine onto his desk and curled up in bed. Maybe tomorrow.  
  
Speaking of which…  
  
Matsukawa’s birthday was coming up in two days, and this made him… anxious.  
  
In all their years of knowing each other, Hanamaki never forgot Matsukawa’s birthday. Not that it was hard to remember—March 1st was an easy date, but Matsukawa still appreciated it, especially given that Hanamaki was terrible with birthdays and had a tendency to forget everyone else’s. But he never forgot March 1st.  
  
There was a first time for everything, though.  
  
Matsukawa didn’t usually like people fussing over him for whatever reason, but his relationship with Hanamaki made things different. Hanamaki seemed to love Matsukawa’s birthday as much as his own, and made an extra effort to spoil him whenever March 1st rolled around, and Matsukawa couldn’t help but enjoy this attention, this yearly staple he had come to look forward to in their usually busy lives.  
  
But now there was this fight. And Hanamaki had been so busy lately, that Matsukawa was worried that he had forgotten all together. He would get over it quickly enough if Hanamaki had, but… it would be nice if he could put aside some time from work.  
  
Matsukawa was on the verge of falling into an uneasy sleep when he heard a soft knock on his door. There was an unanswered pause, then his door opened and closed quietly ( _dammit Takahiro, what was the point of knocking?_ ), and Hanamaki crept into the room. Matsukawa felt him pull back the covers a little and then slide into the bed awkwardly beside him, trying not to wake him but still jostling him a little with arms and knees, and swearing softly as he did so. Matsukawa shuffled over to make room for him, and once they settled down more comfortably, somewhat automatically put their arms around each other.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Hanamaki murmured. Matsukawa still didn’t say anything, but pulled him closer and kissed his forehead and began drawing gentle circles through his hair with his fingers, just the way he knew Hanamaki liked. They stayed that way until they fell asleep, anger gone but still hurting a little more than either cared to admit, listening to the soft breathing of the other, knowing that things would be okay eventually, but just not _right now_.  
  
They both woke up in the morning to the sound of Matsukawa’s alarm clock setting off. They groaned and stretched and yawned and nudged each other, and it was completely undignified, but it was good, it was _theirs_ , and they allowed themselves to lie in bed for a few more minutes. Matsukawa’s fingers were again tracing circles through Hanamaki’s hair, and Hanamaki alternated between studying Matsukawa’s face, and blinking sleepily.  
  
“Tomorrow,” said Matsukawa, “let’s go out and have dinner together. I feel like we haven’t done that for a while.”  
  
Hanamaki thought for a moment before saying, “I’ve got work until half past six, so you’ll need to wait for me to come home, get changed, and drop off my stuff, and then we can go. Pick a restaurant in the meantime. Just… nothing too expensive, yeah?”  
  
Cup noodles on broken benches, maybe; still perfect.  
  
“Okay,” said Matsukawa.  
  
Hanamaki pushed himself up with his elbows and rolled out of bed to claim the bathroom first. With a sigh, Matsukawa shuffled into the kitchen to boil some hot water and make coffee. When Hanamaki was done, they switched, and Matsukawa went to brush his teeth and get changed, and Hanamaki made toast and fried some eggs. They sat and ate together in a sleepy silence, not having anything to say, but it was mellow and rather nice, until Hanamaki began checking the time more frequently and picking up his pace. He grabbed their empty plates, mugs, and cutlery, and washed them so hastily that Matsukawa wouldn’t have been surprised if he had broken them all. He watched impassively as Hanamaki dashed back into his room to grab his bag, and then hurried back out and dived for his shoes.  
  
“Have a good day today,” said Matsukawa quietly as he watched him wrestle his shoes on and fiddle with his laces. “Try to take it easy.”  
  
Hanamaki looked up at him and smiled slightly. “You too,” he said. “And… I’m sorry for losing my temper last night.”  
  
Matsukawa shrugged. “It’s fine, you apologised already. I yelled at you, too.”  
  
Hanamaki stared at him for a moment with his shoulders slumped. Matsukawa knew what he wanted to say.  
  
“Takahiro–”  
  
“I’m still going to pay you back,” said Hanamaki. “If you don’t give me the numbers, I’m just going to go by last month’s rent and bills and give you that amount, otherwise it’s not fair on you–”  
  
“I told you, I don’t care.”  
  
“ _And that’s the problem._ I can’t let you do everything.”  
  
“I don’t always do everyth–”  
  
“Issei.”  
  
Matsukawa sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ll send you a text with the amount for your half,” he said. “But if you can’t pay it, then don’t wor–”  
  
He was cut off again, but this time as Hanamaki stood up and kissed him, then wrapped his arms around his neck and hugged him for a moment.  
  
“Thanks,” he whispered.  
  
Exasperatedly, Matsukawa rubbed his shoulder.  
  
“You’re such a dumbass,” he said, but without any malice. “Why do I put up with you?” He felt Hanamaki laugh softly against his neck.  
  
“We make it worth it,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“We do.”  
  
—  
  
It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening the next day, and Hanamaki still hadn’t come home from work, and he wasn’t answering any calls.  
  
He had left the apartment before Matsukawa had woken up again, and there had been no note, no gift, not even a text message wishing him a happy birthday. Matsukawa hadn’t heard from him the whole day, and now that Hanamaki was over an hour late getting home, he was getting both worried and annoyed.  
  
Maybe Hanamaki had forgotten about the birthday, for the first time since knowing each other. But even if he did, he had agreed to have dinner together. Did he forget that too? What the hell was he playing at? Was he okay?  
  
Matsukawa called him three more times, but each time rang out until he reached Hanamaki’s voicemail. He threw his phone down on the couch and ran a hand over his face. He had been looking forward to this dinner, to the point of spacing out at work and being reprimanded by a superior, but now, he couldn’t even get a hold of–  
  
His phone was ringing. It was Hanamaki. For a brief moment as he stared at his name on his screen, Matsukawa contemplated rejecting the call, but he pushed away that petty stubbornness and answered it instead.  
  
“Where the fuck are you?” he asked quietly.  
  
“I’m outside the post office,” said Hanamaki. “I fucked up.”  
  
Matsukawa frowned and his worrying doubled. Hanamaki sounded dejected and frustrated, and even more tired than usual, if that was possible. “I’ll come get you,” he said. “I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Matsukawa hung up and hurried out of the apartment, and was there in seven to find Hanamaki sitting on the bench just outside the post office. He looked up as Matsukawa reached him.  
  
“What the _hell_ happened, Takahiro?” said Matsukawa, sitting down next to him and cupping his face in his hands and looking at him with concern. “Are you okay?”  
  
Hanamaki gave him a small, tight smile, and pulled his hands away. “Happy birthday,” he said. So he had remembered after all. “I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry. I fucked up with your present.”  
  
“What do you mean? What’s going on?”  
  
Hanamaki twisted his fingers together, looking like a kid who had done something wrong and didn’t know how to make up for it.  
  
“Remember that black Tag Heuer watch you said you wanted, months ago?” he said.  
  
“Yeah…” said Matsukawa slowly.  
  
Hanamaki’s voice was even quieter as he said, “I wanted to get that for your birthday.”  
  
Matsukawa stared at him like he had sprouted an extra head. “ _What?_ Are you _serious?_ ” he spluttered. “Neither of us have the money for that thing!”  
  
“I know, which is why I started saving up for it and taking extra shifts at work as often as I could. I found a jewellery store that had one of the watches in stock, so I managed to talk the owner into holding it for me. I even paid a deposit. Today, my pay check went through, and I _finally_ had enough to buy the watch, so I planned to go straight to the jewellery store after work. I was going to give it to you over dinner.” Hanamaki dropped his gaze to the ground and his hands clenched tightly together. “But when I got there, the owner told me they’d sold the watch a few days ago. Sold it to some rich old guy with enough money to pay for the whole thing upfront. I told them that I’d paid a deposit already, but that wasn’t good enough for them. They refunded my deposit and told me to leave and stop wasting their time before they called security.” Hanamaki smiled bitterly. “They said that guys our age couldn’t appreciate a good watch like the older guys could. And by the time we were meant to meet for dinner, I still couldn’t find the Tag Heuer in any of the other shops in the area, and I had no clue what else to get you. Now I’m here, and I’ve still got nothing. I’m sorry.”  
  
Matsukawa was speechless. _This_ was what they had endured so much crap for, over the past several weeks? _This_ was what they had that angry fight over? _This_ was what Hanamaki worked so many hours for?  
  
“I’ll make it up to you,” Hanamaki was saying. “It’ll be a late present but–”  
  
“That’s why you nearly burned yourself out?” said Matsukawa quietly. “For that fucking watch–”  
  
“ _Your_ watch.”  
  
“ _Takahiro_.”  
  
“It was meant to be _your_ birthday present,” said Hanamaki. “I worked so _fucking_ hard for it. I yelled at you over the rent and bills because I didn’t want you to help me buy it; I wanted every yen of that watch to come from my own efforts. And I was going to get it to you in time, but some douchebag thinks it’s fine to just hand it over to the first person who waves a credit card at them, even though they _said_ they’d hold it for me. I even checked back every week to make sure it was still there and to let them know I was still interested, but…”  
  
Matsukawa put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “You dumbass,” he said, chest feeling a little tight. “You didn’t need to do all this–”  
  
“Of course I did!” Hanamaki snapped, pushing him away. “It was the perfect present for you, and–”  
  
“If you had to go through this much trouble just to get it, then it wasn’t perfect,” said Matsukawa. “That Tag Heuer was a… a dream thing, like how people have dream cars or dream houses or whatever. Yes, it was something I really liked, but it wasn’t going to kill me if I didn’t have it. And you… working _so many_ hours–”  
  
Hanamaki shook his head. “You’ve always done so much for me, and _just once_ , I wanted to do something for you, but I still managed to fuck that up. I was so confident I was going to buy it, that I didn’t even have a back-up plan.”  
  
Matsukawa took a deep breath and tilted his head back to stare up at the evening sky. “I can’t keep up with you,” he said.  
  
“I’m sor–”  
  
“No, _don’t_ apologise. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”  
  
“But–”  
  
“ _You’re not listening._ ” Matsukawa pressed his hands to Hanamaki’s face again. “I don’t need an expensive watch. I don’t even need a birthday gift,” he said. “You’re enough. You’ve always been–”  
  
“Don’t–”  
  
“–You’ve always been enough.”  
  
“ _Fuck_ , Issei.”  
  
“Thank you for being enough–”  
  
“Fucking _stop it_.” Hanamaki’s hands curled around his wrists and pulled them away from his face.  
  
“–and thank you for working so hard for me. I mean it. I kind of want to knock you out for it, but I’m also really happy at the same time.”  
  
“For god’s sake, is this your birthday or mine?”  
  
“Mine, but it’s not much of a birthday if you’re going to beat yourself up for something that wasn’t your fault.”  
  
Hanamaki shook his head, and he began tracing the lines over Matsukawa’s hands with his fingers. “I should’ve planned better,” he said.  
  
“And that shopkeeper should have honoured your agreement and held the watch for you, but they didn’t, even though you trusted them to, so it’s not your fault,” said Matsukawa. “But it’s fine, now. It’s okay. Just… Just promise me something. Promise me you won’t do this again—that you won’t work more hours than is healthy for you. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself and not overdo things again.”  
  
“It depends on why I’m pushing myself, though.”  
  
“Don’t fuck around, I’m serious,” said Matsukawa sharply. “It was really hard watching you come home and looking like you’d pass out whilst standing up. And there were times when I didn’t see you for the entire day, and I _hated_ those so much. I knew it was because you were burning yourself out, but there was so little I could do to help you, so… promise me you’ll look after yourself. _Promise me,_ Takahiro.”  
  
Hanamaki’s fingers stilled at his hands. His eyes flickered to Matsukawa’s, and his expression softened. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll take better care of myself. I’m sorry I put you through so much crap.”  
  
Matsukawa shook his head. “As long as you’re okay, I can handle it,” he said, and then paused before adding, “Just don’t make me carry you from the couch again.”  
  
“You didn’t carry me, you _dragged_ me–”  
  
“You got from point A to point B, didn’t you? That’s good enough.”  
  
Hanamaki rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again, and Matsukawa felt that he could honestly take on anything the world threw at him as long as he had that.  
  
“Tomorrow, ask if you can take the day off from work,” said Matsukawa. “Sleep in for once and help me eat some of the leftovers, because our fridge is overflowing. Be good to yourself over the next couple of days, okay? And go out and see some of your friends; you haven’t hung out with them for a while, and they’re going to think I’ve been keeping you locked up at home.” Hanamaki gave a snort of laughter.  
  
“And you’ve got money saved up now, right?” Matsukawa continued. “And you’re on spring break, so let’s go somewhere over a weekend. Let’s go and… I don’t know, spend a couple of days in Tokyo or Sapporo or something. How does that sound?”  
  
Hanamaki nodded. “It sounds good,” he said softly. “God, we could be spending time in some old lady’s garage during winter in Hokkaido, and that still sounds perfect.”  
  
Matsukawa grinned and curled his hands around Hanamaki’s. Hanamaki responded in kind, but Matsukawa could tell he was still disappointed; that would probably take some time getting over, but… they could do it. It’d be okay. They’d be okay.  
  
“I _really_ wanted to get you that watch,” said Hanamaki, still quietly.  
  
“I know. And when you’ve finished your master’s degree and found a decent job and you’re loaded with money, then you can buy it for me,” said Matsukawa. “But for god’s sake, no matter how many expensive watches I own, they won’t _ever_ hold a candle to you. I’d pick a cheap ten-minute lunch with you over a hundred fancy watches in a goddamn heartbeat. I want you to remember that, okay? Sometimes you forget and you overdo things, but you’ve always been enough, and you’ll always _be_ enough.”  
  
“Yep, definitely not your birthday,” Hanamaki muttered. But he smiled again, almost shyly now.  
  
“Come on, don’t think about it anymore tonight. Let’s have dinner. If you want to spoil me for my birthday, then treat me to a cheese-filled steak.” Hanamaki gave a little laugh. Matsukawa pressed his forehead to his.  
  
“God, I’ve really missed you,” he murmured. Hanamaki’s fingers tightened around his hands.  
  
“You just saw me yesterday.”  
  
“You know what I mean, dumbass. I’m trying to be all romantic here, and you–” He was cut off when Hanamaki kissed him, then pulled away, grinning, and Matsukawa felt his pulse race, and there was that wonderful warmth in his chest again.  
  
“Happy birthday, Issei.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
_Yes, this is all I need._  
  
—  



End file.
